


Black Sheep

by Jebiwonkenobi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-06
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jebiwonkenobi/pseuds/Jebiwonkenobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life had been pretty dull for Stiles since his only friend moved away, and he had no reason to believe this year would be different - at least not until Allison Argent moved to town and some joggers found a body in the woods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Widely Regarded as a Bad Move

**Author's Note:**

> The AU where Allison is Stiles' werewolf best friend.  
> Beta'd by [Eve](http://tomhiddlestoned.tumblr.com/) <3

Stiles was woken by a sudden loud thump as something large fell in through his window, but he didn't really register what was happening until it started to move, which was when he yelped and threw his pillow at it. 

"Ow! Stiles, shut up!" hissed Allison, and she grabbed the pillow and threw it back. Stiles clamped a hand over his mouth and for a tense minute they waited to see if the noise had woken his dad, but the house remained quiet and still. Allison climbed to her feet and glared at him. "I can't believe you just left me out there." 

Stiles spread his hands in supplication. "I was trying to save your ass - you could have spoken up at any time if you wanted to ride home in the back of my dad's car." 

"You could have come back," she said irritably, "I had to walk all the way here, after almost getting trampled by deer and almost hit by a car and - oh yeah, _actually_ getting mauled by something giant and scary with sharp teeth - so get up, you're driving me to the hospital." 

"The _hospital?_ What happened? What was it?" 

"I don't know — I didn't stop to introduce myself — it was giant and hairy and wolf-shaped and it _bit_ me." 

"There aren't any wolves in California." 

"That's why I said wolf _-shaped_. Are you going to drive me to the hospital or not?" 

"Can I see it?" 

"What?" 

"The bite. Can I see the bite? Is it gross?" 

Allison sighed and went to flip on his lamp before returning to the bedside so she could gently lift her blood-soaked hoodie and t-shirt. Stiles had his face scrunched up and half turned away the entire time in anticipation, but when she finally revealed the wound it was met with silence. 

"Is it bad?" she asked. 

"Are you sure that happened tonight?" asked Stiles. 

"Of course I am, why?" 

"It looks like it's been healing for a couple days now, at least. It definitely doesn't need stitches." 

"But there's blood everywhere," said Allison. 

"I can see that, but the bite doesn't - wait, where are you going?" 

But she'd already crossed the room and opened his door and she disappeared into the hallway without responding. 

"Don't wake my dad!" he hissed after her. 

She returned a couple minutes later with a scowl. "That doesn't make any sense." 

"Maybe it was a werewolf," suggested Stiles cheerfully, "how awesome would that be? Do you have super hearing? Or smell?" 

Allison rolled her eyes. "Ha ha ha, you're hilarious. Fine, the hospital can wait, but I think we should get your dad. I tripped over that woman's body when I was running from that thing." 

"Really? Where?"  

"I'm not sure," said Allison, "but I know where I came out of the forest and your dad knows where he found you, so if they narrow their search to the area between those points they should be able to find her faster." 

"Fair. There's no point waking my dad though; there's nothing more they can do tonight. Joggers found the first half of the body, so I'll give you a ride home and 'joggers' can call in an anonymous tip on the second half. That way we don’t get grounded and everybody wins." 

Allison sighed and shrugged and borrowed a shirt from him because the blood on hers was beginning to stiffen and make her uncomfortable. They drove to a gas station where Stiles used a pay phone to deliver what he thought was a very convincing performance of a terrified midnight jogger, and then he spent the entire ride back to her house rambling on about werewolves from various shows, comics, and movies, which would have been more entertaining for her if she hadn't been able to hear his heart beating and the blood rushing to and from it. It was like putting her ear against the opening of a sea shell; suddenly her only friend in Beacon Hills sounded like an ocean, and she was starting to get worried. 

She climbed in through her window and discarded her clothes in favor of a robe so she could go clean her wound properly and take a shower, but when she checked it in the mirror again it was neatly scabbed with no sign of infection. She scowled and settled for the shower.  

The moment she turned the knob she heard the water rushing through the pipes to answer her summons, and then it started hitting the porcelain floor of the tub like so much thunder. She felt like all that noise should have drowned everything else out, but if she focused she could still hear the click of the refrigerator as it came on downstairs and the ebb and flow of her parents breathing . She shook it off as an after-effect of the adrenaline that came from being chased through the woods, but when she lathered her hair with shampoo the smell was so overpowering that she had to try to hold her breath to keep from inhaling it, and even then she felt ill by the time she got back to her room. The moment she walked through her bedroom door, she caught a strong whiff of Stiles and froze. It took her a minute to realize that he hadn't somehow decided to come back and sneak in through her window, and that what she was smelling was his shirt, strewn in a corner along with her jeans. She buried the shirt at the bottom of her laundry, so it would be covered up by things that smelled like her, and tried to go to sleep. 

It was lucky that she was exhausted or all the noises she'd never noticed before, both in her house and in the street outside, would have kept her up. As it was, she found herself wide awake the moment her parents started moving around the following morning. She listened to them, trying to imagine what each sound meant. She realized that she had no idea what they did before she met them in the kitchen for breakfast. She listened to them brushing their teeth together, and if she strained hard enough she could hear the low, indistinct thrum of their pulses. 

Victoria finished brushing first and said, "You were late getting in last night." Allison worried for a moment, wondered if they were fighting or unhappy and she'd just been too wrapped up in herself to notice. "Did you run into trouble?" 

Chris spat into the sink and turned the water off. There was a noise, like cloth across sandpaper as he wiped his face on a towel. "Couldn't find the damn thing. Found blood though, and human footprints running away." 

"It bit someone?" Her mother had that tone she got when she found bugs or mold, like she was offended something so disgusting had the audacity to come near her. "Lovely," she sneered, "more vermin to hunt." 

"Maybe," said Chris. "We checked the E.R. for animal attacks, but we didn't find anything. It's possible the blood was from an animal, and the human passed through separately." 

"Or there's another Beta running around," said Victoria, and then, in a tone that was even more disgusted, “or an Omega.”  

"Yes," agreed Chris, "or that. We'll keep an eye out. The full moon's on Saturday. The first change is always sloppy - if someone did get bitten, we'll find them then."  

Victoria sighed and there was a soft noise, the whisper of skin over skin and skin over fabric as she hugged her husband. "It's too bad you can't just kill the thing before it ever has a chance to hurt anyone." 

"Nous chassons ceux qui nous chasser," Chris chided gently. 

Victoria made a disgruntled noise, and Allison got up. 

She focused very hard on only listening to her own noises - the rush of her blood, the hammering of her heart, the fabric of her clothes sliding over her skin as she got dressed and moved around. She did her hair and makeup. She double-checked that the bathroom door was locked so she could check the bite on her side, but it was nearly gone and in several places the scab had vanished entirely to be replaced by an angry pink scar. She sat on the toilet and tried to come up with an explanation for her parents' conversation that had nothing to do with werewolves, or at least nothing to do with the terrifying notion that they _hunted_ werewolves.  

When that failed, she examined herself in the mirror to try and see if she was noticeably different, but nothing stood out. She was still pale and scrawny, still had the same brown eyes, but she couldn’t shake the terrifying notion that her parents would be able to _sense_ that she was different somehow. She paced her room, restlessly stalling for time, and she was repacking her school bag for the third time when her phone started buzzing in her back pocket, startling her out of her skin. 

"Do you need a ride to school?" asked Stiles without waiting for a 'hello.'  

"Yes," said Allison emphatically. She didn't, actually - her dad was supposed to take her, but she wanted distance from both her parents to collect herself.  

"I'll be there in five minutes." He sounded excited, but she didn't take the time to ask why.  

She hurried downstairs and shoved pop tarts into the toaster even though she wasn't hungry.  

"Oh honey, don't do that, I'll make you something." Victoria kissed Allison on the forehead and Allison gave her a smile.  

"No, it's okay. Stiles said if I went to school early with him he'd show me the fastest way to all my classes so I don't get lost today. Can you let dad know?" 

Victoria's eyebrows went up. "And when do we get to meet 'Stiles?'" She said his name like she didn't think it was a very good one, and Allison tried not to let it bother her.  

"It's not like that," she assured her mother. The pop tarts popped and she wrapped them in a paper towel, kissing Victoria on the cheek as she grabbed her bag . "Love you!" She all but ran from the house. 

"Have a good day!" Victoria called after her.  

Stiles pulled up right as Allison got outside and she broke into a run and pulled herself breathlessly in his passenger seat. "Pop tart?"  

Stiles made a pleased noise and took one. "So they found the body," he announced, "but not where you said it was. Your tip got the dogs on the scent trail though, and they followed it out to the Hale house, where - get this - they had to _dig her up_. They arrested Derek Hale this morning. I didn't even know he was back in town." Stiles took a giant bite out of the pop tart and Allison was treated to the disgusting noise that was a human chewing on something.  

"Who's Derek Hale?" she asked.  

Stiles was in his element. He loved telling stories, and he loved it even better when they were true, so he told her about the fire that had taken place six years ago at the Hale house and claimed ten lives. When he was finished she had no idea what to say, so she went with, "That's horrible,” even though it didn't really cover the scope of what had happened. 

"Yeah," agreed Stiles, "and it must have left him pretty unhinged, because they IDed the dead woman as Laura Hale. His sister." 

Allison didn't know what to do with that information either, so she offered him the other pop tart and he ate it. 

"Do you always go to school this early?" she asked.  

Stiles shrugged. "Not usually, but I was pretty wired so I got up early to listen in on my dad's radio. He was there when they dug her up." 

"You-" Allison stopped herself and Stiles glanced over at her.  

"That looks like a serious face. Are we doing serious faces now?" 

"I need you not to laugh at me." 

"Sure," agreed Stiles easily. "Or - wait, did I? Am I being reprimanded for previous laughter?" 

"No. I need to tell you something, and I need you to understand that I'm being completely serious and I'm freaking out, and I need you to not laugh." 

"Okay." Stiles sounded nervous. Not just the trepidation in his tone, but in the subtle change of his pulse as his muscles tightened and he braced himself. 

"I think you were right. I know you were only joking, but I think you were right and it was a werewolf that bit me, and I think my parents hunt werewolves and I'm scared." 

Stiles didn't say anything, stuck between his promise not to laugh, fear that he was being teased, and hope that she was both not lying and not crazy.  

"The bite is almost completely gone, I'll show you when we get to school. And I can hear things and smell things. I know you've got a piece of mint mojito gum in your pocket. Where do you even get that stuff?" 

"I get it when I get gas over by the video store, but I haven't done that in a month or so. I don't have any left." 

Allison leaned over, ignoring his protests, and dug through his jacket pockets until she found it and handed it to him.  

He stared at it for a moment and then popped it in his mouth to cover up the lingering taste of pop tarts. "Okay, so why do you think your parents hunt werewolves?" 

Allison related the conversation she'd overheard that morning.  

"Sorry, new sissy what?" 

" _Nous chassons ceux qui nous chasser_. It's French. It means ‘we hunt those that hunt us.’" 

"Well, that sounds promising. I mean, you don't want to hunt people, right?" 

"No, of course not." 

"Okay. Well, if they have that rule at all then it stands to reason that hurting people is optional, right? Except maybe on the full moon. But we can figure that out. And so far the other side effects seem awesome. Like super powers." 

Allison didn't feel that 'awesome' accurately described her mother expressing a desire to murder her. "Last night wasn't a full moon," she pointed out.  

Stiles thought about that. "Maybe you _can_ change any time, but you only _have_ to change on the full moon. Like in True Blood." 

"You watch True Blood?" asked Allison.  

Stiles shrugged. "Whatever, so we just keep you from hulking out this week, and then you tell your parents you're going to a sleepover on Saturday and we'll find somewhere to lock you up, just in case." Stiles smiled easily. "No problem." 

They had their first class together, and when the bell rang she slid into the seat next to him and tried to focus on taking notes, only to discover that after repacking her bag three times, she'd forgotten to bring a pen. She mimed a request for one, but Stiles just shrugged apologetically and held up the one he was using, so she leaned forward to tap the shoulder of the girl sitting in front of her and said, "Excuse me, could I borrow-" 

Which was when the girl turned around, long strawberry-blonde hair swinging over her shoulder and washing Allison in the scent of coconut shampoo (the kind people buy when they want to be reminded of beaches). She smiled with ruby red lips and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and Allison's words failed her so she swallowed and mimed using a pen with her hand.

The girl turned away again for a second and then turned back and handed Allison a pencil, and Allison smiled at her until she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Stiles pretending to puke at the expression on her face. She picked her jaw up off the floor and mouthed thank you and tried, once more, to focus on what the teacher was saying. An hour later, she and Stiles had slid out of class and into the stream of students in the hallways and she hooked an arm around his elbow. 

"Who was that?" she asked. She didn't specify who she was talking about but then, she didn't think she needed to. 

"Lydia Martin," replied Stiles sympathetically. 

"She's-" 

"I know," said Stiles. 

"But is she-?" 

"-exclusively attracted to pricks with dicks? Ding ding ding," said Stiles. 

Allison whimpered and buried her face in his shoulder. 

He patted her head awkwardly. "I know." 

After school, Stiles dragged her back out to the woods to test out how well her hearing worked and they discovered that she had become stronger and faster too. 

"This is great," he told her as he walked along the top of a fallen tree, "you're like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, only her powers came from a demon - do you think there are vampires too?" 

"I don't know," said Allison. 

"Buffy didn't do the transforming thing, but maybe we could solve crimes and stuff, and they'll name you Class Protector at the prom." 

Allison laughed, but then she heard a noise - a twig cracking under pressure, and it didn't come from Stiles. She spun around to see a tall young man behind them wearing a dark leather jacket and a darker scowl. Stiles leapt off the tree to hit her arm and whispered, "That's him, that's Derek Hale." 

"What are you doing out here?" demanded Derek, "This is private property." 

"Sorry," said Allison, "We didn't know. We'll go. Come on, Stiles." She tugged Stiles' arm and he came along easily, though he glanced back several times as they went. 

Stiles texted Allison later that evening to let her know that Laura Hale's official Cause of Death had been an 'animal attack,' and that Derek hadn't even been in town during the kill window, so he was definitely not the 'animal.' She didn't respond, so he finished his homework and went back to researching werewolves on his computer until he heard his dad come home.  

"Have you eaten?" his dad called up the stairs.  

"No," Stiles called back. He printed out a few more pages and tucked them in with his books to show Allison later before heading down to the kitchen. 

"Can you clear us a couple spots at the table?" asked the Sheriff. "Without snooping?" 

Stiles muttered something about paranoia and started stacking his dad's papers and police files to make room, but he got distracted by a giant evidence bag with a bunch of dirt and a plant inside. He picked it up to get a closer look and at first he thought it was some kind of really long vine, but then he realized that it was a rope with a bunch of flower buds woven into it. At the end was a large, fully bloomed plant with delicate purple flowers, and Stiles realized with a jolt that it was wolfsbane. There was a giant rope of wolfsbane in his kitchen. "What's this?" he asked.  

"Nothing," said his dad. "It was planted around the grave we found Laura Hale in. We collected it when we collected the remains." 

Stiles looked back down at the bag. "He must have spent a long time on this." 

His dad looked up sharply. "What do you know about it? Do you know Derek Hale?" 

"No. I mean, not exactly. Allison and I bumped into him in the woods earlier-" 

"Damn it, Stiles, I told you not to go out there again! A woman just _died_ out there. I want you to steer clear of that forest _and_ this case, do you understand me?" He was angrier than Stiles had seen him in a long time. Usually Stiles' shenanigans were met with irritation and the occasional grounding, but this time his dad was properly pissed, and more than that, he looked _scared_. "Are you listening? I want you to promise me you'll stay out of the forest until this animal is caught." 

"Yeah, yeah, got it. Calm down." Stiles set the bag aside and went back to clearing off the table. 

He drove Allison to school again the following day and managed to wait a whole two minutes into the car ride before saying, "I think we should go see Derek Hale." 

"Because he was _so_ pleased to see us yesterday," said Allison. She glanced at Stiles and saw something in his face that she wasn't used to. A sort of intensity that didn't come from the excitement he got when he shared information. "Why?" 

"My dad has this - um - well, it's wolfsbane. Derek buried his sister beneath a bunch of wolfsbane. And that's weird. So I want to take it back to him, and ask him if he knows anything about werewolves." 

"Wolfsbane is supposed to be poisonous to werewolves though, isn't it?" asked Allison. "What if he 'knows about werewolves' the same way my parents do?" 

"Well, luckily you're not wearing your 'Lycan and Proud' t-shirt today," said Stiles. 

Allison agreed reluctantly and then spent most of the day nervously anticipating their planned visit to the Hale house. Chemistry provided a reprieve when she realized that her assigned lab partner was Lydia Martin. Allison was delighted to discover that Lydia was a genius, and that she could explain everything Allison didn't understand without making her feel dumb. They finished early and Lydia asked her about the places she'd lived before Beacon Hills, so Allison spent a few minutes rambling about catching frogs in Georgia and winning an archery competition in Texas and camping in Washington. With a little prodding, she got Lydia to confess a love of math, and Lydia ended up inviting her to a party on Saturday.  

"Yeah," hedged Allison, "I'd love to. My parents can be kind of strict, but I'll try." 

When she told Stiles about it on the way to his jeep after school, he threw her an incredulous look. "You know you can't go, right? Even if your parents did say yes?" 

"Yeah. I'm not even going to bother asking, I just didn't want it to sound like I didn't _want_ to." 

They piled into the car and Stiles gave her another look as he buckled his seatbelt. "You know that attending parties with Jackson and Lydia usually equals watching Jackson and Lydia suck face?" 

Allison shrugged helplessly.  

"Just checking," said Stiles.  

Allison waited in the car when Stiles stopped by his house to steal the evidence bag full of wolfsbane, and when he got back she said, "Not that it would stop you, but just so I know: this is illegal, right? Stealing evidence from an ongoing investigation?" 

"It's not relevant to the case anymore, since Derek's been cleared," said Stiles.  

"Was that a 'no?'" asked Allison.  

"No, that was a rationalization," said Stiles, "but look at it. I think he must have spent a lot of time making it, and I think it means something. Maybe not for us, but to him." 

Allison reached back and tugged the bag into her lap so she could study it up close. There was something sad about it, quite apart from the fact that she knew it had been created for a gravesite. The roots of the plants reached out from the rope, yearning for nutrients that they couldn’t get from what little loose soil remained in the bag. She started feeling queasy after a little while, so she replaced the bag on the back seat, folded her arms over her stomach, and leaned her head against the cool glass of the window. "He put it around the grave?" 

"Yeah," said Stiles. "It's weird, but I don't know - if someone stole the flowers I left for my mom, I'd be pissed." 

"You're sweet," Allison told him. 

Stiles didn't reply, and he was uncharacteristically quiet throughout the drive.  Allison opted not to push him or try to force a conversation since he rarely ever mentioned his mother and she wasn't really feeling up to having an intense talk about feelings. 

She began to feel progressively worse as they drove on, like her skin was crawling, like the world was getting too close and she had no room to breathe. They were nearly to Derek's when she made a noise and Stiles looked over to see that she was leaning forward with an arm wrapped around her middle.  

"Whoa, are you okay? Please don't puke in my car." 

She glanced at him and heard his heart rate spike.  

"Shit," he said, "Allison, your eyes are glowing. Are you shifting? Are you shifting in my car? You can't shift in my car!" 

"I can't control it," she said, but her voice came out as more of a growl than anything.  

"But why-" the evidence bag in the back caught Stiles' eye and he swore. He pulled over and jumped out, taking the wolfsbane with him so that he could throw it away from the jeep, but when he turned back around Allison was no longer in her seat. He swore again and looked around to see which direction she'd gone only to realize that she hadn't gone anywhere at all. She was standing in front of the car, almost completely shifted. Her face was unrecognizable and hair had gotten shorter and thicker and she was no longer discernibly female. He grossed himself out wondering if she'd grown extra nipples but he couldn't remember how many wolves were supposed to have.  

"Allison?" he asked as he thought to himself that death by werewolf was at least cooler than 'choked on a salad.' 

She growled, long and low and menacing, and he ran.  

He was in shape from lacrosse but Allison had been on the track team at every school she'd attended for the last few years, and she was also a _fucking werewolf_. He didn't give himself great odds of getting out of this alive, but she was clumsy and unused to her new body which gave him a bit of a head start. He ran away from where he'd thrown the wolfsbane and since there was no chance of her not hearing him anyway, he shouted at her as he ran, "You don't want to eat me!" 

It wasn't exactly dignified, but who was going to hear him anyway? 

"I taste terrible, like gefilte fish, or what I imagine gefilte fish tastes like!" He'd never actually eaten gefilte fish because he thought it looked like something Professor Snape would keep in his office under the label 'for enemies.' "It would be really great if you could shift back now! Please?!" 

He heard her feet pounding against the earth behind him, so it shouldn't have been so surprising when he was struck suddenly from behind and sent flying through the air, but he screamed anyway. He hit the ground hard and groaned. When he rolled over he found her circling slowly, and he climbed to his feet and turned with her so they remained facing one another.  

"Allison?" he tried again. "I'm really sorry about the whole wolfsbane thing. You should probably post somewhere on the internet, for posterity, that wolfsbane and werewolves is a bad combo. And specify that it does not need to be ingested in order to cause trouble, because I don't think that was an unreasonable assumption on my part." 

She snarled and charged and Stiles threw up an arm to shield his face only to have claws rip through it and _wow that hurt._ He gritted his teeth, preparing for more searing, horrible pain, but instead there was another growl and he got a blow to the ribs that made a sickening crunch and sent him sprawling to the ground. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, deciding that he really didn't need to see himself getting torn to shreds, but he didn't get attacked again even though he could still hear growling. When he finally looked up, he found that Derek Hale was suddenly standing between him and Allison. Derek Hale who had wolf claws and was considerably hairier than Stiles remembered. _Oh god,_ he thought, _they're fighting over who gets to eat me_. 

Allison snarled and Derek snarled back. She tried to circle around him to get at Stiles and he blocked her. Finally, frustrated, she charged and Derek used her momentum to flip her and pin her to the ground.  

"Are you okay?" he asked, and Stiles was kind of thrown by that because Derek was fully shifted just like Allison, who was struggling and growling and trying to snap at his throat, but he sounded oddly calm. Like he'd just wandered out for a walk in the woods and happened to find someone to discuss the weather with.  

Stiles looked down at his arm and felt his stomach flip because it was bleeding profusely. "Yeah," he said shakily. "I mean, it could be worse." 

Derek turned his attention to Allison and started emitting a low, rumbling growl that Stiles could feel in his guts and in his aching ribs. Eventually Allison stilled and shifted back, and as soon as she was done Derek put a good five feet between them.  

"What are you two doing back here?" he asked.  

"Bringing you the wolfsbane my dad took," said Stiles.  

Derek's eyebrows knit together. "Why?" 

Stiles shrugged. "It seemed important, and like maybe you might know something about werewolves, and no one told me it would make her Hulk out." 

"Yeah, it does that," said Derek.  

"Thank you, your intel is both timely and appreciated," said Stiles. He thought maybe Derek smiled at him but he couldn't focus on anything very well.  

"Come on, I've got a first aid kit in my car." Derek helped Stiles up and made him take off the button-up shirt he was wearing over his t-shirt so that they could wrap his arm in it. "Keep pressure on it and hold it above your heart," Derek instructed him. Stiles tried to do as he was told, but the attempt must have been pretty pathetic because Derek caught him and said, "Here, just put your arm around my neck." He helped Stiles walk and Allison trailed along behind them as they made their way up to the Hale house and Derek's car. Luckily it wasn't far, but Stiles was pretty dizzy by the time they got there. Derek propped him against the side of the car and reminded him to keep his arm elevated before disappearing to locate the first aid kit. Stiles slid down the side of the car until he was sitting and Allison crouched down in front of him.  

"Stiles?" she whispered.  

Her voice sounded shaky, like she'd been crying. He hoped she hadn't been crying. "Sorry about the wolfsbane," he said. "Are you okay?" 

She made a noise that was sort of a laugh but mostly a sob.  

"You don't sound okay," said Stiles, "Don't cry." 

"Shut up, Stiles. I almost killed you." 

"Nah, I'm fine," mumbled Stiles. "Derek saved the day. Did I thank him?" 

He heard footsteps and Allison scrambled out of the way so that Derek could kneel in front of him and dress his arm in actual bandages, rather than his crusty, blood-soaked shirt. Stiles expected it to hurt more, but Derek's movements were gentle and practiced, and his calloused fingers wound the cloth around Stiles' arm with ease.  

"Can you drive?" asked Derek.  

"Right now?" asked Stiles, but then Allison said _yes_ and Stiles realized Derek hadn't been talking to him.  

"Take his keys and meet us at the hospital," Derek ordered, and Allison reached around to dig through Stiles' pockets to find them.  

"Don't wreck my jeep," Stiles told her. 

"I won't," she promised. 

Stiles made it into Derek's passenger seat with an embarrassing amount of help from Derek, but the seats were comfortable and he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. When the car started, the radio played some bouncy hip-hop number and the bass made the car vibrate until Derek’s hand shot out to turn it down. Stiles laughed, because for some reason Derek listening to hip-hop in his leather jacket and his sleek black Camaro was funny.  

"Thanks," he remembered to say.  

"You too," said Derek. 

"For what?" asked Stiles. "I'm pretty sure I'm just going to bleed all over your seats." 

If Derek answered him, he wasn't awake to hear it.  

When Stiles opened his eyes again, he was laying in a hospital bed. His arm didn't hurt as bad as it had before, and it had been re-bandaged again. He looked around to see Derek and Allison leaning against the wall to his right, but before he could say anything to them, he heard a familiar voice shouting outside the room and his stomach dropped.  

“Dad-” He started trying to sit up but a warm hand on his shoulder pushed him back down and then it was gone, and Derek with it, out into the hallway to call Stiles' dad over.  

“He's fine,” Derek announced, “he just woke up.” 

The Sheriff burst into the room and Stiles was flooded with guilt at having put his dad on the receiving end of another phone call from the hospital.  

“I'm fine, dad, really-” 

"What the _hell_ happened?" demanded the Sheriff.  

Stiles opened his mouth but he had no idea what Derek and Allison had told the doctors or what the doctors had already told his dad.  

“He fell,” said a new voice, and Derek moved out of the doorway and back over to the wall so that a doctor could come in. “Scraped up his arm pretty bad, lost a lot of blood, sustained minor fractures to a couple ribs, but Mr. Hale got him here in time.” The doctor smiled at Stiles. “I'm Dr. Fenris.” He explained that Stiles' stitches would fall out on their own as his arm healed and he had just started telling Stiles how to keep the wound clean when the door was thrown open again and Chris Argent was standing there, breathing heavily and wearing the sort of dangerous look animals get when you corner them.  

Derek was halfway to blocking Chris from reaching either Allison or Stiles when Chris said, “Allison, come here _now_.” 

Derek hesitated. He was balanced on the balls of his feet, fists clenched at his sides, watching Allison to wait for her reaction.  

“Dad?” said Allison, and Derek retreated immediately. “What are you-” 

“ _Now_ ,” snapped Chris.   

“Allison didn't do anything wrong,” said Stiles, “it was just a stupid accident.” 

"Allison, _now_. Jim is driving you home," ordered Chris.  

"But dad-" 

"Don't you _dare_ 'but Dad' me," snapped Chris.  

"Stiles-" began Allison.  

"Stiles is fine," the Sheriff told her. "You can see him tomorrow at school, if he makes it that far after I'm done with him." 

Stiles tried his best to be invisible.  

Chris put his hand out toward Allison and watched Derek like a hawk as she crossed in front of him. Once she was within arm's reach, Chris pulled her out into the hall and Stiles, his dad, Derek, and the doctor all avoided one another’s gazes while they eavesdropped shamelessly. 

"Take her home," ordered Chris.  

"You want me to call you some backup?" asked Jim. 

"No," said Chris, "we're just going to talk." 

There was a pause, and then Chris reappeared, eyeing Stiles' bandaged arm before turning to Derek. "Can I speak to you privately?" 

"He should really stay," blurted Stiles. "I mean I'm a little fuzzy about the whole falling thing because I - you know - fell, and I haven't even had a chance to thank him properly for saving my life and everything so-" 

"Stiles," said Derek quietly, and Stiles stopped talking. Derek gave him a puzzled look and added, "I'll stop by again before I leave." He nodded for Chris to precede him out of the room and Chris backed up, refusing to turn away. Derek rolled his eyes and followed, and the door slid closed behind him. The room seemed to sag under the weight of the silence that followed their departure.  

"So," continued the doctor, "when you take showers-" 

* * * 

Allison was still trying to decide where to rank the drive home from the hospital on her list of _most awkward car rides ever_ when Jim said, "You okay kid?" 

She looked up at him, and he was smiling at her so she tried to smile back. "Yeah, sorry, just…I was really scared that Stiles wasn't going to be okay. It's a good thing Derek was on his way over to kick him off his property." 

He grunted at that, but then he got a phone call and answered it.  

"Do you have her?" asked Victoria.  

"Yeah," said Jim, "we're on our way to your house now." 

"Is she okay? Hale didn't touch her?" 

Allison clenched her jaw and looked out the window. 

"No," said Jim, "she's fine. A little shaken. That friend of hers needed stitches though." 

Victoria made a frustrated noise. "Is that enough for you to take Hale out now?" 

"That's up to Chris, ma'am," said Jim. "He stayed behind to have a chat." 

" _Chat_ ," spat Victoria. "I'm done _chatting_. We brought that creature here to kill it." 

“Does Chris know that?” asked Jim.  

“Bring my daughter home.” 

"Yes, ma'am," said Jim, and he hung up the phone. "Your mother's glad you're okay." 

Allison thought that was a pretty generous interpretation of the conversation. "He just fell," she said, "I wasn't even there. I don't understand why dad was so angry." 

"Don't worry, kiddo, you're not in trouble. You just gave everyone a scare." 

Allison turned back to the window.  

* * * 

"Stiles are you even listening to any of this?" asked the Sheriff.  

Stiles was not. He was watching the door. "Can you go see if Derek wants us to treat him to dinner or something? Since he saved my life?" 

"Stiles-" 

"Or hey, I have to go to the bathroom-" 

"No you don't," snapped the Sheriff, "will you calm down and listen to the doctor, please?" 

"Please, I'll only be gone a minute-" 

"What are you so worried about?" asked the Sheriff.  

Stiles opened his mouth and closed it again. "They've been gone a really long time. What if he's beating the crap out of him in a dark corner?" 

"Why would Hale beat the crap out of Argent?" 

"No, other way," said Stiles.  

"Okay, why would Argent beat the crap out of Hale?" 

"I don't know," snapped Stiles, "maybe he wasn't hugged enough as a child." 

Fenris sighed. "I'll just print out the instructions for you and give you a number to call if you have any questions." 

"Thanks," said the Sheriff, and Fenris left. When the door slid shut behind him, the Sheriff continued, "Stiles, can you please explain to me what the hell is going on? _Honestly_?" 

"I just don't think it looked like they were going to get on very well-" 

"I'm not talking about Hale and Argent, I'm talking about you, in the woods, when I told you not to be. I'm talking about you needing stitches. You _fell?_ _Really?_ " 

"Yeah," said Stiles, "it's not a big deal. It was an accident-" 

"Did you get attacked by something?" 

" _No_ ," said Stiles. And then, "Like what kind of a something?" 

"I don't know. Anything. A person. Some kind of animal you've never seen before. Some weird combination of the two." He tried to make the last part sound like a joke but didn't do very well.  

"Dad, are you trying to ask me if I got attacked by a werewolf?" asked Stiles.  

"No," said the Sheriff with a laugh.  

"Right," said Stiles.  

“That would be ludicrous,” said the Sheriff.  

They both gave a forced laugh and then it got quiet for a moment while his dad avoided looking at him. 

"When you dug up Laura Hale she was wolf-shaped, wasn't she?" 

"Yes she was," answered the Sheriff immediately, and his whole face flooded with relief at being able to say so.  

"Great - so the Argents hunt werewolves and Derek's a werewolf and can you please go make up an excuse for Derek not to be alone with that guy anymore? He did save my life." 

"'Hunt' as in-" 

"With guns," said Stiles, "please go." 

He went. 

He found them in a stairwell. They weren't attacking each other, but Chris was crowding into Derek's space – at least as much as anyone could, since Derek wasn't the sort of person who backed away. Derek stared pointedly at the wall over Chris' shoulder with his jaw clenched and his fists curled into tight balls while Chris hovered close enough that his breath fluttered Derek’s collar. The Sheriff pushed the door open and leaned in. "Everything all right in here?" 

"Yeah," said Chris genially. He straightened Derek's jacket, which the Sheriff personally thought was a pretty stupid thing to do if the look on Derek's face was any indication. "We were just discussing some private matters." 

"Derek, my son won't shut up until you've agreed to let us treat you to dinner, and I'm fairly certain he won't take my word for it that I asked, so I'd appreciate if you went and talked to him yourself." 

"Sure." Derek sidestepped Chris and slid past the Sheriff, back into the hall. Chris moved to leave as well, but the Sheriff blocked him and stepped into the stairwell, allowing the door to swing shut behind him.  

"You're new to Beacon Hills, Mr. Argent, and I'd like you to feel welcome. I knew your parents when they lived here and they seemed like fine folks. But you should know I've got no room in this town for the sort of person who likes to threaten kids half his age. That young man has been through quite enough already." 

Chris smiled. "We were just talking." 

"Good. See that you leave it at that." 

Stiles brightened the moment Derek walked in. "I may have told my dad you're a werewolf," he said, "but I think he probably already assumed that, since your sister was one. Also Allison texted me a minute ago - apparently her mom's pushing for them to kill you, so, you know, keep an eye out for that. Will you help her?" 

"Kill me?" asked Derek.  

"No, sorry, Allison. With her wolf thing." 

Derek sighed, like there was a considerably longer answer to that question, but all he said was, "Yes." 

Stiles grinned, and then it faltered for a second. "Is werewolf training private, or can I come too?" 

"It's a pack thing,” said Derek, “but yes, you can come." Stiles beamed at him, and Derek almost looked over his shoulder to see if there was someone else in the room, but then the Sheriff returned and closed the door behind him. 

"So. You fell?" 

"No, I stole your big bag of wolfsbane and it made Allison wolf out." 

" _Allison's_ a werewolf? In a family of people that hunt werewolves?" 

"She got bitten the other night when we were out looking for -" he stopped himself just short of saying 'the body,' and instead said, "- Laura." 

"You mean the other night when you told me you were alone?" 

Stiles opened his mouth and then closed it again. "I don't know, actually, I'm a little fuzzy - I lost a lot of blood today, maybe they didn't tell you. I almost died. It was very traumatizing." 

"Uh-huh. Continue." 

Stiles related the events of the last two days, and when he was finished, the Sheriff glanced at Derek.  

"Is _he_ going to become - you know -?" 

"No," said Derek. "If he'd been turned, he wouldn't have needed to come to the hospital. He'll probably be bonded to Allison for the rest of his life, though." 

"Whoa, _bonded_? What the hell does that mean?" demanded Stiles. "I don't want to be bonded to Allison. We share the same taste in women and that's about as 'bonded' as I want to get." 

The corner of Derek's mouth twitched. "It's not sexual. It's just a connection. It's not as strong as the bond created when you turn someone, but if she calls for you, you'll know it. If you're afraid, she'll know it. It'll also be easier for her to recognize you as part of her pack now, even if she's not in control when she shifts. Next time, don't run. Just get down and raise your chin." 

"Bare my throat, you mean? To an angry out-of-control werewolf?" 

"If you act like prey, you'll be treated like prey," said Derek.  

Doctor Fenris returned then, with printouts and pain medication for Stiles, and the three of them fell silent. 

* * * 

"I don't want you hanging out with that boy anymore," said Victoria the moment Allison walked in the door. 

"Because he fell and hurt his arm?" asked Allison. 

"Because he hangs out with Derek Hale," said Victoria. 

"How do you even know what that guy's name is?" demanded Allison, "And Stiles wasn't 'hanging out' with him, he was rescued by him, and it's a lucky thing too because he could have died out there!" 

"Exactly, and what was he doing out there in the first place?" 

"I don't know, probably trying to figure out what happened to that poor woman!" 

Victoria rolled her eyes but she couldn't voice her opinion of Laura Hale, so instead she sneered, "So he's an idiot?" 

"Well he's a sixteen-year-old boy, so yeah, sometimes he is!" 

They glared at each other for a moment before Victoria reigned herself in and forced her voice down to a normal, if strained, speaking volume. "Allison, please just promise me you'll stay out of the forest. There's an animal out there attacking people." 

"Fine. But I'm _not_ staying away from Stiles." Allison turned around to head for the stairs. 

Victoria sighed. "I'm going to start dinner soon-" 

"I'm not hungry," snapped Allison. A couple moments later Victoria flinched when Allison slammed her bedroom door. 

"Chris says the doctor backed up the fall story," said Jim, "It doesn't look like Hale infected the kid, but we'll keep an eye on him." 

Allison fell back onto her bed and covered her face with a pillow and tried not to remember the way Stiles' blood smelled. 

* * * 

Derek stood just inside the door of the Stilinski kitchen with his shoulders hunched and his hands in his pockets and refused the glass of water that he was offered. When the Sheriff asked him what he wanted on his pizza, he deferred to Stiles, who was on pain medication and would probably have eaten anything that was put in front of him, so the Sheriff ordered two large meat-lovers and decided to stop asking Derek to make himself comfortable. 

"Sit down." He tried not to make it sound like they were beginning an interrogation, except that they kind of were. Derek took the seat across from Stiles, who smiled goofily at him, and the Sheriff sat at the end of the table. 

"Do you know who bit Allison?" 

"No," said Derek. 

"Do you know who bit you?" asked Stiles. 

Derek glanced over at him, surprised, "I wasn't bitten. I was born a werewolf." 

"Awesome,” said Stiles with a grin.  

Derek didn't seem to know how to handle that response, so he focused on Stiles' dad instead. "The Alpha's moves so far haven't made any sense. It's possible that they were never part of a pack and aren't clear on what it is they're supposed to be doing. The bite isn't meant to be handed out easily, or forced. It bonds you to the person you've bitten, binds them into your pack. But newly made wolves are-" Derek tried to find a word, but eventually just said, "-they're never left alone like that. To survive, to prevent from endangering their pack by catching the attention of hunters, they have to learn a lot of things very quickly. Things I've known my entire life. Biting Allison was foolish. Especially given that Saturday is the full moon." 

"Will you be able to keep her from hurting anyone?" asked the Sheriff. 

"If I can keep the hunters from getting near us. They'll be watching me. They'll be watching Stiles too." 

The Sheriff nodded and set that aside as something to think on later. 

"So Allison's bonded to this Alpha person? Would she be able to lead us to them?" asked the Sheriff. 

"It's possible. But she doesn't know what she's doing. She'll need better command over her abilities, and control over her wolf. Once we get past the full moon, I can work with her on that." 

"And I can come?" asked Stiles, like he was afraid Derek might have changed his mind since the hospital. His dad and Derek both turned to look at him and he tried to smile like it wasn't a big deal. 

"Of course," said Derek. And then, "It'll be boring sometimes." 

Stiles grinned again. "Great!" 

"Where are you staying?" asked the Sheriff. 

"My house," said Derek, as if that should have been obvious. Given that he'd been on hand to save Stiles, perhaps it should have been. 

The Sheriff stared at him. "Really? I mean - there are two hotels in town-" 

Derek shuddered. "Hotels are gross enough for people who can't smell every previous visitor in the mattress. Besides, both the hotels in Beacon Hills are owned and operated by hunters. They like to keep an eye on travelers." 

"We've got a spare room," volunteered Stiles. 

"My house is fine," said Derek. 

"That's not what the sign at the end of your road says." 

"Stiles," said the Sheriff firmly, "drop it." 

When the pizza arrived they moved to the living room to watch Evil Dead 2 (at Stiles' insistence, though he kept talking over the movie to ask Derek questions about werewolves), and when they'd finished eating the Sheriff paused the movie and said, "So how does your sister fit into all this?" 

Derek's voice was soft and low when he said, "I don't know. She came back here to investigate the fire. I didn't -" He had to stop for a moment and collect himself, but then he said, "By the time I found her the scent of whoever had killed her had been washed away. Maybe the Alpha did it. Maybe the Argents did it and made it look like an animal attack. I don't know why they -" he had to stop again. “I don't know why anyone would have killed Laura. She wouldn’t have challenged a local Alpha and she never violated the Argents’ code.” 

"I'll ask the M.E. to take a closer look," said the Sheriff. 

“Thanks,” said Derek.  


	2. The Full Moon and the Magic Bullet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the moon waxes, the house gets a makeover, a pizza boy is terrified, and a monster returns to Beacon Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [Eve](http://www.tomhiddlestoned.tumblr.com/).

When Saturday rolled around, Stiles developed two surly shadows in an SUV that turned up across the street from his house and trailed him around town when he ran errands for his dad. They kept their distance, but they didn’t bother hiding that they were there. Stiles pretended not to notice them anyway. They got steadily more anxious as nightfall approached, and moonrise found them sitting in a booth at the local pizza shop, staring daggers at Stiles as he joked around with his waitress.

The Sheriff, meanwhile, was out with a few of his deputies, responding to a call from dispatch that some people were trespassing on the Hale property. 

“You do know it’s not hunting season?” he called out when he spotted them - five men, led by Chris, all carrying crossbows and semi-automatic rifles. 

Chris’ shoulders tightened and he looked skyward for a moment before forcing himself to relax and turning to give the Sheriff a smile. “Sheriff. What are you doing here?”

“I’m asking myself the same thing. See, I _was_ supposed to have tonight off. My son planned a movie marathon; have you ever seen _We Sell the Dead?”_

“No,” said Chris. 

“Me neither. He says I’m going to love it, but-” the Sheriff shrugged and hooked his thumbs in his belt as he walked down the hill toward the hunters. “But then I got a call about a bunch of kids trespassing out by the Hale house. Which happens. They like to get drunk and dare each other to go down to the basement. Pretty grisly, as drinking games go. But you all aren’t kids, are you?”

“No,” said Chris again. 

The Sheriff looked down at the weapon Chris was holding and raised an eyebrow. “You want to tell me what you’re doing out here, Mr. Argent? With a crossbow?”

Chris tried to smile again, but it mostly looked like a snarl. 

* * *

 Stiles turned up at Allison’s bright and early the next morning and received a thoroughly terrifying smile from Allison’s mother when she opened the door. 

“Hey,” he said, “Ally and I were going to do go-carts this morning, is she up yet?”

“Go-carts?” she repeated, barely managing not to sneer. 

Stiles swallowed. “Well, yeah. I had a coupon and it’s only good for go-carts or laser tag and, well -” he held up his bandaged arm. “Can’t really hold the gun properly.”

“Stiles?” Allison appeared behind her mother. She was a little paler than usual but she was smiling as she tugged on her shoes. “You ready to go?”

Stiles nodded, and Allison shouldered past her mother and grabbed the elbow of his good arm to spin him around and lead him back down the driveway to the street where he’d parked. 

“How’d it go?” asked Stiles, once they were safely inside the jeep. 

“Good. I actually remember everything - changing, and then being a wolf, and running around, and we tracked a deer!”

Stiles made a sad noise. “Bambi?”

“We didn’t kill it,” protested Allison, “but it was like a mile away and I found it just by smell, it was really cool. Mostly we just ran, though.” She said it so wistfully that Stiles felt a twinge of jealousy. “He wants us to meet up with him on Saturday mornings and Wednesdays after school, so I can learn how to control myself and we can both learn more about werewolves in general.”

Stiles glanced at her, and she looked more pleased and relaxed than she had since the night she’d been bitten. “That sounds awesome,” he said. She grinned, and he grinned back. 

* * *

Derek had a chair on the corner of his porch where he sat when it rained. He listened to water hitting wood and leaves and dirt, memorized the different sounds it made, breathed in the fresh wet scent of the forest. He’d fallen asleep there more than once. He'd gotten used to the house the way it was, the way it smelled like damp earth and plants growing and wood rotting. It was oddly comforting to be able to see the sky all the time. He liked being able to hear the animals that lived around him. Still, it was missing something important, so he tried not to pay too much attention to details.

Which might have been why it took so long for him to notice the thick green tentacles of the aloe plant spilling out of the little blue planter that appeared on the porch near his chair. When he did notice, he scowled at it for a long time.

The next thing he noticed was the water. He was standing in the kitchen post-workout holding one of the few glasses that wasn't broken or scored with ash, and while he was waiting for the dull brown tap water to turn clear he realized that there was a case of bottled water on the counter that he didn't remember buying. He narrowed his eyes, but he turned off the sink and took one and went about his day. After that, he started taking stock. When he'd arrived in Beacon Hills there had been debris strewn all across the floors in every room, but now most of it had vanished. The coffee table had been retrieved from the corner of the living room and had its leg reattached so it could sit in front of the couch, which had a blanket tucked over the top of it to hide the fact that the new cushions (which he didn’t remember getting) didn’t match. Eventually the windows got curtains, battery-powered ‘candles’ appeared in the hallways, snacks began to fill the kitchen cupboards, clean silverware turned up in the drawers. It was as if the house was healing itself slowly, except that it wasn't like that at all, because these things happened in little batches on Wednesdays and Saturdays, after Stiles and Allison had come and gone.

Derek had never concerned himself with what Stiles did while he took Allison out to teach her how to shift on purpose and hone her senses. Most of the time Stiles was curled around his homework before they left and after they returned, but Derek was starting to realize that the middle was a giant question mark.

The Wednesday after he noticed the curtains, Stiles and Allison showed up bearing takeout and engrossed in an argument over how many Godzillas it would take to defeat Cthulhu. Derek sat in a slightly wobbly armchair and watched quietly as they settled in; Allison curled up in the corner of the couch while Stiles set the bags of food on the coffee table and kept talking, even as he disappeared down the hallway into the kitchen. Allison rolled her eyes and made faces in time with his words and separated the food out according to who it was for. Derek took his and was struggling to make the chopsticks work for him when Stiles returned and pushed a bottle of water and a fork into his hands. Derek tried to glare at him to let him know that he was not so useless as to need a fork, but Stiles wasn’t even looking - his eyes were focused on Allison, and he passed another bottle of water to her and sat down without ever pausing for breath. 

Derek was halfway through his dinner when he frowned and started pushing the rest of his food around curiously.

Stiles and Allison were still going. " _Come on_ , Ally, seriously? Godzilla doesn't even have proper arms, he's got those-" he tucked his elbows against his sides to make his arms really short, hooked his fingers into claws and waved them around uselessly.

"I thought this came with baby corn," said Derek.

Stiles and Allison looked up at him, and Stiles’ t-rex claws stilled, but he didn’t put his arms down. "You hate baby corn.”

"How could anyone hate baby corn?" asked Allison, "It's so cute."

"No it isn't,” said Stiles, “It's not even properly corn-colored. It's like waxy zombie-corn." He stuck his tongue out and went back to eating and Allison rolled her eyes.

After dinner, Derek took Allison hunting and Stiles waited until they’d been gone for a good half hour before setting his school work aside and heading out to start pulling junk out of his jeep. There wasn’t really any other word for it - he and Allison had been stopping at thrift stores and buying things that they thought the house needed. Mostly cheap lighting and kitchen items, but this time he’d hit the jackpot with a battery-powered dinosaur lamp and a tiny dining room set. They had only been able to find three chairs, but Stiles told Allison they didn't need more friends anyway. The sun was setting as he gathered flowers to put in the vase they'd gotten as a centerpiece for the table when he heard the howl. It was long and low and distant, jarring in the way it shook through his bones, and he knew in his gut that it wasn’t Derek or Allison. 

He’d started being able to feel it when Allison shifted, sometimes, particularly if she was nearby or if she suddenly lost control. The latter was what he felt wash over him immediately after the howl, like being plunged into icy water. He shivered, though it wasn’t really cold, and went inside even though whatever action might have been taking place was certainly not taking place anywhere near the house. He almost locked the door before he remembered that the walls were missing in some places, and then he went and curled up on the couch with his history homework and pretended to study while he strained to listen for any approaching threats. 

Half an hour later, he went running to the bathroom, stomach lurching with nausea as fear and panic filtered through the connection, only this time when it finally faded, it didn’t fade completely. It stuck around, a tense feeling in the back of his mind, so that he could actually feel Derek and Allison’s progress as they returned home. Eventually they got close enough that he could see them through the window, their footsteps falling slow and weary - not the panicked gait of someone running from danger. Stiles finally relaxed and the connection to Allison vanished, leaving him feeling slightly guilty when he realized that his own worry was what had been keeping her anxiety alive.

She didn’t stop or wave when they got to the house - she went straight up to use Derek’s shower and Derek sat down in the chair across from Stiles to wait.

“Gross,” said Stiles, glancing up from his homework, “is that Bambi blood all over you?”

“No,” said Derek. And then, “You've been cleaning my house.”

“Possibly if you acquired electricity and a television I could be convinced not to,” said Stiles. 

“What is that?” Derek nodded at the dinosaur lamp. 

Stiles smirked. “ _The better to see you with, my dear_. Though at the moment you look very axe-murderer-chic, so maybe I'll turn it off.” But he didn't. “So if it's not Bambi, what is it? Seems like a bit much for Thumper.”

Derek looked down at himself. “The Alpha tried to summon Allison to kill with him.”

“Kill what?” asked Stiles. Derek just looked at him and he paled slightly. “Oh. Who?”

Derek shrugged. “Don’t know. He's not dead yet, just injured. We called an ambulance.”

Stiles swallowed and looked back down at his homework, but he was still on the page he’d been on when he first set it aside to unload the jeep.

When Allison reappeared she was wearing fresh clothes, and Derek scowled but didn't say anything. She and Stiles were both subdued as they filed out of the house, and once the sound of the jeep’s tires lumbering over the dips and rises of the dirt road had faded into the distance, Derek went upstairs and turned left instead of right. He followed Allison’s scent down the hall and into Laura’s old room and found that Allison had been stashing clothing in Laura's old dresser. There wasn't much in the room that wasn't ruined, but she had cleaned away the burnt pieces of the photos that littered the floor and put what was left back into the edges of the dusty old mirror where Laura had kept them originally. 

He was uncomfortable at first with the idea of her fitting herself into Laura's spaces, but he could almost hear his sister's voice in his head telling him to lighten up. She would have liked Allison, so if anyone was collecting old pieces of Laura, dusting them off, and treasuring them, he was glad it was her. He folded his arms and glared at the mirror for a moment before noticing that not all of the photos were old and crispy. There were some that were whole and bright: Stiles scratching the back of his head in his lacrosse uniform, Allison and another girl laughing together over milkshakes, Allison and Stiles dancing in Stiles' room, Stiles talking and gesturing wildly with his hands during one of their Wednesday dinners. Derek was in the background of that one, and he was smiling. 

The following Saturday when they dropped in, there was a stack of books sitting on the coffee table – old and dusty but not burnt, all of them with the word 'Lycanthropy' somewhere in the title. Allison settled into her corner of the couch, as usual, and Stiles grinned and grabbed one of the books as he threw himself onto the cushion next to her and swung his legs up into her lap. By the time Derek arrived downstairs, Stiles was engrossed and Allison had her homework balanced on top of his shins. 

“What did you find out?” asked Derek. 

Stiles tore himself away from the book as Derek sat down. “Garrison Meyers,” he announced, but Derek didn't react, and Stiles glanced at Allison. 

“You don't know him?” she asked. 

“Should I?” asked Derek. 

“He was the insurance investigator assigned to the fire.” Stiles didn't specify which one – it seemed kind of redundant when they could see the sun shining down into the foyer. 

“Why would I know that?” asked Derek, “All of that was handled by lawyers.”

“You never tried to figure out what happened?” asked Allison, “I mean, wasn’t that why Laura was-”

“I know what happened,” said Derek. 

“Really? But – oh.” Allison looked at Stiles, unsure of whether or not it was appropriate to ask for details. 

“Well he got fired on suspicion of fraud, so he's a bus driver now,” Stiles continued, “which goes to show that the Alpha does not, apparently, have a very sophisticated sense of humor.”

Derek leaned back and mulled that over, and Stiles went back to reading.

“Oh!” said Allison suddenly, making the other two jump, “Can we meet up on Tuesday next week instead of Wednesday? My aunt's supposed to be getting into town Wednesday morning so my parents want to take her out to dinner after I get out of school.”

“Your aunt?” repeated Derek levelly. 

“Yeah, I guess she's coming to stay with us for a while. She's closer to my age than my dad's though, so it's kind of like having an awesome big sister that doesn't have to listen to my parents.” Allison grinned and nudged Stiles. “I can't wait for you to meet her. She's much more fun than my parents are, I promise.”

“That's not hard,” said Stiles, “your parents are terrifying.”

Allison rolled her eyes. “She makes cookies,” she wheedled, “the best ones ever.”

“Are they the ones with kisses in the middle?” asked Stiles skeptically.

“No, they're like chocolate chip cookies except instead of chocolate chips they've got sour patch kids in them – don't make faces, they're great. They taste like fruitcake, if fruitcake was a warm delicious cookie.”

“Allison,” said Derek, and something in his voice made both of them freeze and look up like they'd been caught doing something shameful. “You need to be more careful while she's here. Both of you. You can't just drive out here – there's a jogging trail nearby, you can use that as an excuse to be in the area. Listen carefully to make sure there's no one in the woods before you approach the house. Leave those books here, and if you have anything else like that at your houses you should bring it here too.”

“Why?” asked Allison. 

“Just do it,” snapped Derek, and without another word he got up and stalked out of the room and up the stairs. He didn't slam his door, but it swung shut with an audible snap that made both of them wince. 

“Remember when you said your grandparents used to live in Beacon Hills?” asked Stiles. “I don't suppose there's any chance your aunt wasn't with them.”

“She graduated high school here,” said Allison. 

If Derek expected them to leave just because he was in a bad mood, he was sorely mistaken. Stiles had actually planned on asking permission for their next project, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. The living room walls were atrocious, but they were at least mostly there, so Stiles and Allison cleaned them as best they could, patched up the larger holes, and got to work painting them with primer. The stuff reeked so badly that they had to pry open the windows and Allison had to take frequent breaks to step outside and catch her breath, but they got the living room and hallway painted amid random battles in which they also painted one another. Allison had bought a new disposable camera, but it ended up getting primer on it so most of the pictures would probably be a blurry white mess. She cleaned it off as best she could and took the pictures anyway. 

They ordered pizza for lunch but the delivery guy refused to come near the house so they had to walk out to the street to get it. He actually refused to even get out of his car, and he looked so terrified of the little dirt road behind them that Stiles tipped him especially well even though Allison said he shouldn’t since they had to drag their asses down the hill to meet him. They ate their food in what remained of the dining room, and when they finished Stiles laid back and folded his arms underneath his head, Allison used his stomach as a pillow, and they spent a lazy half hour searching out shapes in the clouds. 

“Do you think we're making it better or worse?” she asked. 

“I doubt the clouds care if I think they're shaped like irradiated mutant rabbits,” said Stiles. 

“I meant Derek, and the house.”

“I know.” Stiles watched the irradiated mutant rabbit drift out of sight. “I think any place is better with laughter than without.”

They didn't see Derek again before they left so they couldn't ask if it was okay for them to come back again the next day and paint over the primer.

Allison worried at the bottom of the stairs while Stiles grabbed his bag. 

“It's not as if he can't hear us,” Stiles told her. “If he doesn't want us back here tomorrow he's welcome to say so. Or stomp. Or yodel.”

They waited, but Derek didn't make any noise. 

The next day Stiles met Allison at the house with the back of his jeep loaded up with muted purple paint and framed posters, and they went through the whole process all over again. When they finished painting they did their homework in the dining room with their legs swinging off the edge of the house where the wall and part of the floor had fallen away. Derek still hadn’t made an appearance by the time Allison had to leave to go home, so Stiles migrated to the living room, ordered another pizza, hung the posters, and worked on getting through the books Derek had left them. He had his headphones in and was doing a little dance in his spot on the couch when he happened to glance up and realized that Derek had been standing in the doorway for who knew how long. 

“ _Oh my god_ , dude, seriously, _stomp and yodel_. Or you could wear something with bells on it. They've got some little joker hats down at the-”

“What are you still doing here?” asked Derek. 

Stiles shrugged and held up the book. “You said we shouldn't take them home.”

“I meant once Kate got here,” said Derek. 

“Ah. Well. I'll go then. You can have the rest of the pizza, if you want.” Stiles dug something out of his bag to use as a bookmark and was halfway to the door when Derek called his name. “Yeah?”

“Did you seriously fill my living room with posters for old werewolf movies?”

Stiles gave a nervous shrug but he couldn’t hold back a smirk. “You’re seriously just noticing this now? How long were you standing there?”

Derek didn't look at him. “You know the house isn't salvageable, right? It'll have to demolished.”

Stiles shrugged. “You're not there yet. So in the meantime, it's a -” he struggled for a moment to figure out what he was trying to say. “It's a splint. Or lipstick on a pig, maybe, I don't know. We'll stop, if you want.”

“No,” said Derek, “it's fine.”

“Good, because I kind of want to do a whole monster theme for each part of the house - you know, zombies for the hallway, Frankenstein's monster for the rec room, vampires for the kitchen, and for the bathroom – _Nessy_.”

Derek rolled his eyes and sighed. “Get out.” Stiles got all the way to the door this time before Derek said, “Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Stiles grinned at him. “Thanks for having us.”

Derek stood there until he could no longer hear Stiles or the jeep, and then he went and sat in his armchair and rolled his eyes at the posters again. Somehow, with the walls painted, Kate’s imminent arrival seemed both more bearable and more terrifying.

* * *

The following Tuesday, Stiles was sprawled across the couch with his homework when he got a text from Derek that just said, _Alpha tried to call her again. Hunting it down, don’t wait up._

Stiles wanted to wait for them anyway, but he did have a curfew and school in the morning and there was nothing he could do for them except pace around the old house and worry. He went home, but he couldn’t get to sleep for the longest time.

 When he finally did drift off it seemed like he’d only been out for a few seconds before his phone started vibrating. He reached over clumsily to grab it and missed the ‘answer’ button a couple times before it picked up and he got it to his ear. “Mmmhmm?”

“Stiles?” Allison’s voice was laced with fear, and suddenly Stiles was sitting up. 

“Where are you?”

She gave him the cross streets and he snuck out his window and sped all the way there. Allison was supporting Derek on the side of the road when he pulled up, and Stiles’ heart flipped. He got out and helped her get Derek into the back and waited until they were back on the road before asking what happened. 

“My aunt got here early and the Alpha attacked her. She got a gun to defend herself but she got confused and shot Derek instead.”

“Why isn’t it healing?” asked Stiles. 

“I don’t know. She said he’s only got 48 hours before it kills him.”

“ _Kills_ -” Stiles’ brain rejected the idea before he could even finish voicing it. “What do we do?”

“I need one of the bullets,” said Derek, “I need to know what’s in it.”

“Could the hospital-” began Allison. 

“No hospital,” said Derek. “Hunters watch the hospital.”

Allison got quiet, and Stiles said, “Okay, but they won’t try anything if the cops are there, and-”

“No cops,” said Derek. 

“But it was an accident - wrong place wrong time, and we-”

“ _No_ ,” said Derek, and Stiles let out a frustrated sigh. 

“Okay, so Allison steals a bullet and you’re just - what? Going to wait for her at home?”

“I can’t go home, not like this. Not while I can’t defend myself.”

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek. “Okay, Allison steals a bullet and you come home with me.”

“I said no cops,” Derek reminded him. 

“My dad knows about-”

“ _No_.”

“Fine! But we don’t have anywhere else to go, so we’ll be sneaky. If you can manage it.”

Derek growled. 

“Hey,” said Stiles defensively, “I’m not doubting your ninja wolf skills over here, but you’re not exactly playing at the top of your game right now. In fact, you look like you’re going to pass out.”

Derek couldn’t argue with that, so he leaned back and closed his eyes and Stiles drove a little faster. He dropped Allison off a couple blocks from her house so she could sneak back in without her parents seeing the jeep, and then he took Derek home. They made slow work of getting up to Stiles’ bedroom, and when they finally made it in Derek sank onto the bed and sort of toppled over. It would have been cute if it didn’t make Stiles shudder, because Derek Hale was _not_ supposed to get sick. He got broody and quiet sometimes, but he didn’t stumble or fall. It just wasn’t the way Stiles’ world was supposed to function. He found clothes for Derek to sleep in and they didn’t fit very well but Derek didn’t have much to say about it. He changed while Stiles ventured out to locate a first aid kit, and the entire time that Stiles was bandaging Derek’s arm he was worried that his fingers were clumsier and more jarring than Derek’s had been, but Derek didn’t have much to say about that either. 

In fact, Stiles was pretty sure he was asleep before his head ever hit the pillow, which was lucky because Derek completely missed the mini-freakout he had about having an attractive man in his bed. Eventually Stiles got changed and curled up at the edge of the mattress and just tried to keep his limbs to himself. Unfortunately, werwolves were _warm_. And Derek was not accustomed to sharing a bed, so his burning limbs were everywhere and Stiles was miserable and sweaty until he finally extricated himself and opened his window. He closed his eyes and drank in the cool night air that flooded in, but when he turned back Derek had sprawled out into the space where Stiles was supposed to go.

After a lot of awkward tugging, Stiles managed to get him on his side long enough to triumphantly reclaim his spot, but he’d only barely gotten comfortable when the bed lurched and an arm landed across the back of his shoulders. He sighed. 

His dad left before he did in the mornings, which was lucky because he wasn’t planning on attending school - he had barely gotten any sleep and he had no intention of leaving a big sick werewolf alone in his house all day. He called Allison as soon as his dad went to work and held the phone to his ear with his shoulder while he ate a bowl of cereal over the sink. 

“How is he?” asked Allison. 

“Hot,” said Stiles irritably. 

“Stiles,” chided Allison, “he’s sick, you can’t take advantage-”

“Wow, Allison, thanks for that, I mean temperature-wise,” snapped Stiles, “and in what universe could _I_ take advantage of _him_? I’m the innocent, naive little high school student -” Allison gave a derisive laugh that Stiles chose to ignore, “- he’s the giant sweaty werewolf that just shoved me out of my own bed.”

“He’s sick,” Allison reminded him again. 

“I know,” said Stiles. “How’s it going with the bullet?”

“I think I know where it is but they’re expecting me to go to school and she doesn’t have to work. I need you to come steal it while she’s dropping me off.”

Stiles laughed. 

“I’m serious,” said Allison. 

“You’ve got an armory in your basement and they think I’m a monster.”

“Stiles, I can’t guarantee she’ll be out of the house again any other time today. My mom’s leaving for pilates soon and Kate and my dad are driving me to school. You have to go in through my window and then turn off the alarm and get the bullet out of her bag - it’s under her bed in the guest room.”

Stiles put his cereal down and made several unhappy faces. “Fine, but if I get shot you owe me _so much_ ice cream.”

“All you can eat forever thank you hurry!” Allison hung up. 

Stiles glared up at the ceiling. “I’m going to break into the Argents’ house! Anyone who wants to help, speak up now!” Silence. Stiles sighed and grabbed his keys. 

He waited around the side of the house while Allison’s mom got in her car and drove away, and then he climbed up and ducked in through Allison’s window. He ran downstairs to shut off the security and then slunk down the hall to the guest room as quick as he could while still being overly cautious. He knew there was no one home, and he knew that at the very least he had the time it took to drive to the high school, but he still worried that every shadow was some psycho hunter cousin, and he didn’t want to be in the Argents’ house a second longer than necessary. 

The bag was right where Allison said it would be. It was also chock full of bullets, but he figured the special box that was missing a single round was what he was looking for. He started to pull one out, but then he figured there was no way Kate would fail to notice even one of them missing, and it was probably better if she didn’t have any, so he took the whole thing. He reset the security system, locked the door handle behind him, and sprinted back to his car. 

Derek had changed back into his own clothes and was curled up on Stiles’ bed. Of course, now that he was awake and alone, he was taking up as little room as possible. Stiles tried not to feel bitter about it. 

“I hope you know what these are,” he said, handing Derek the box. 

“Rare form of wolfsbane,” murmured Derek. He crawled forward and slid clumsily to the floor, where he started tugging at his shirt. Stiles tried not to smile as he swatted Derek’s hands to make him be still and then helped him pull off the shirt and the bandages. 

“Give me one of the bullets,” said Derek. He laid the injured arm across his lap and Stiles’ stomach turned. 

“Ugh, that is gnarly.” Derek just glared at him, so he pulled one of the bullets out of the box and handed it over. 

“I need a lighter.”

It took Stiles a few minutes to dig one up and when he did, Derek bit the bullet open, set the contents on fire, and packed them into the wound while Stiles cringed in sympathetic pain. At first nothing happened, but then Stiles had to scramble back out of the way as Derek screamed and started convulsing, and for a full, terrified minute, he sat with his back pressed against his bedroom door and thought Derek was going to die anyway. It felt like ages before Derek finally rolled over and stilled but for the heavy rise and fall of his chest, and the wound was gone. 

Stiles drew his knees up so he could wrap his arms around them. “Derek?”

It was a couple minutes before Derek said, “I’ll be fine.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Derek shifted so he could turn his head to look up at Stiles and waited. 

Stiles bit his lip. He'd spent most of his restless night trying to figure out how Derek's reaction to the news that Kate was coming to town and the Alpha's reaction to Kate arriving in town could have been unrelated, but he had come up empty. “Did Kate Argent have something to do with the fire?”

Derek didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His face closed off and his eyes focused on the wall above Stiles’ left shoulder while he swallowed back some stray emotion that he couldn’t quite get a handle on. 

“Sorry,” said Stiles. 

“Don’t say anything to Allison,” said Derek. “She needs to be able to act normal to keep Kate from finding out what she is.”

Stiles scoffed at that. “She’s a person. Like you.” 

“You know what I mean.”

Stiles looked down, glaring at his fingers where they rested on top of his knees.

“Stiles? You can’t-”

“Yeah, okay, don’t tell Allison. Got it,” said Stiles. 

“Thanks,” said Derek, and then he closed his eyes and added, “for everything.”

“It’s not a big deal,” said Stiles without looking up. 

“Yes it is. It was dangerous and you didn’t have to-”

“Shut up,” snapped Stiles, “of course I had to. You were dying.”

Derek swallowed and turned his face back toward the floor, but he didn’t say anything and he didn’t open his eyes again for a long time.


	3. Have You Been Served?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murder scenes are somehow easier to navigate than family dinners with the Argents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate Argent happens.

Between the chatter and the engines running and the people moving around, it was hard for Allison isolate the heavy thumping of Lydia’s heart, but somehow when Stiles started whispering his voice rose immediately above the din. 

“There’s a body,” he said. “Lydia and Jackson weren’t the targets. I don’t think he was even interested in them.”

Allison nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her, and sought out Lydia’s heartbeat again. It was still hammering, and when Lydia told the police she hadn’t seen anything she was lying.

“Come on.” Derek pulled on Allison’s elbow to turn her away from the scene below and she followed him back across roof with her head down and her arms tucked against her sides. He’d already reached the edge when she stopped and scowled. 

“Derek?”

He turned to face her. 

“Is - this looks weird. The roof is different colors.” She climbed up onto one of the raised metal contraptions beside her to get a better look. Her scowl got deeper. “There’s a spiral.”

“Move,” he ordered, and she scrambled out of the way so he could climb up. 

“What does it mean?”

He glared at the thick dark lines of the spiral and jumped down, but he didn’t stop to answer her question - he didn't say anything, in fact, until they'd gotten all the way back to his car, and even then it was a perfunctory, _"Get in."_  

Allison watched his face change colors as they passed beneath the streetlights, and it wasn't until they'd gotten out of town and onto the long twisting road that lead out to his property that she asked again. “What does the spiral mean?”

“It means he’s got a vendetta. They’re revenge killings,” said Derek. 

“For the fire?”

“I don’t know."

“Did you know Mr. Jenkins?”

He scowled. “Who?”

“The video store manager.”

Derek shook his head. 

“If it’s revenge for the fire, why would he kill Laura?” asked Allison. 

“I don’t know,” repeated Derek, but it was more of a growl this time. 

“Did anyone else - was anyone else not there?”

“No. One person survived.”

“Werewolf?” she asked. 

“He’s not much of anything anymore,” said Derek. “Our best bet is to find out what Lydia and Jackson saw, and keep following Laura’s trail. Whatever she found put her in his way.”

Allison agreed quietly. 

She filled Stiles in before school the next day. The news that the killings were done for revenge didn’t get much of a reaction from him, but he promised to try and find out about the fire survivor and when she told him that they needed to talk to Lydia and Jackson he groaned.

“Can we at least draw straws to see who has to talk to who?”

“No,” said Allison. “Lydia and I are lab partners and you’re on the lacrosse team with Jackson.”

“But I _hate_ him, and he only knows I exist is when he’s being a prick to me.”

Allison stared him down and he groaned again and rolled his eyes. 

“Fine.”

She smiled and hooked an arm through his elbow so she could pull him to class. 

* * *

Lydia wasn’t at school, so Allison went to see her that afternoon and found her in bed, doped up on prescription medication. The conversation didn’t yield much.

“Did you see anyone else out there? Before the attack? Did anyone else go into the store?”

“Jackson did,” said Lydia. 

“Aside from that,” said Allison. 

Lydia leaned against her, pressing her face into Allison’s shoulder. “You smell nice.”

Allison sighed. “Thanks.”

Eventually she got Lydia to migrate downstairs with her to watch a movie, and by the time it was over, Lydia seemed to be approaching sobriety. She curled up against Allison’s side on the couch. 

“I didn’t see anybody before the window broke. You doing some kind of Veronica Mars thing?”

“Something like that,” said Allison. “What about after the window broke?”

Lydia got quiet. 

“Please? I won't laugh. I need to know what you saw."

Lydia reached over and grabbed her cell phone and handed it to Allison, who gave her a questioning look before waking it up and unlocking it. The phone opened to a video, and when Allison glanced at Lydia she said, "Play it," so Allison did. The alpha's red eyes flashed as he leapt through the front window of the video store, and then it was over.

“It walked away,” said Lydia. “Like a person. I saw him in my rearview mirror. He just strolled off down the street like nothing happened.”

“What did he look like?”

“Tall. He had nice hair.” Lydia shrugged. “At least I think so. I couldn’t really see much, it was dark. Which I'm kind of grateful for because I'm pretty sure he was naked. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s more than I had before.”

Lydia’s hands tightened around Allison’s arm. “Do you know what it was?”

Allison hesitated and then said, “Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me?” asked Lydia. 

“Not yet. Do you want me to?”

Lydia thought about it for a few minutes. “Not yet,” she decided. 

Allison leaned over and kissed the top of Lydia’s head. “I have to go.”

Lydia pouted a little, but she allowed Allison to disentangle herself so that she could get up and locate her shoes. 

“You should probably delete that video,” said Allison. “We don’t want anyone else finding it.”

“We don’t?” asked Lydia. Allison shook her head. She was almost out the door when she heard Lydia say, "Happy Birthday."

She glanced back to find Lydia smiling a sad, sleepy smile at her, and Allison returned one that was warm and genuine. "Thanks." 

* * *

There was a little gravel parking lot about two miles from Derek’s house where people could leave their cars while they explored the running trail. Allison parked there and ran, like Derek had told her to, but when she got near the house she was surprised to smell other people. Familiar people. Kate, Jim, and Jeremy to be precise. She strained her ears and heard a loud _thump_ , the crackling of an electrified riot stick, and her aunt’s laughter. 

“Well, this one grew up in all the right places. I don’t know whether to kill it or lick it.”

Allison swallowed. There were four heartbeats in the house but only two people moving around - small, light footsteps pacing around the body of someone who was crawling across the floor. She growled without meaning to.

“I hear you’re building up the ranks,” crowed Kate, “I couldn’t believe it, but those monster movie posters aren’t really your style, are they Derek?” She received a growl in response and chuckled. “You know it’s not too late for everybody to come out of this happy.” She laughed again and clicked her tongue. “Well, I _say_ happy.” 

Allison could hear an easy grin in every word that she could picture clear as day. She had seen it too many times to count - most recently before school that very morning, when Kate had given Allison her birthday present early (Kate had always been impatient about presents). It was a pendant that Kate claimed was an old family heirloom, and Allison actually liked the little depiction of a wolf and star, so she'd worn it happily. Now it hung heavy around her neck, rooting her feet to the ground where she stood as bile rose in her throat. 

“Come on, Derek, smile! You’ve got a new pack. And if you just tell me who the alpha is, I might be able to resist cooking your new pup extra crispy.”

There was a growl and a zap and several thumps and Allison heard Derek dragging himself over the floor again. She vaguely registered that her hands were shaking and her claws were sliding out, but Kate was talking again. 

“Work with me, here. He killed your sister. You know that right? She was dead when we found her. If you just tell us who he is, we’ll take care of him for you and everybody wins.” There was a creak of leather as Kate knelt down, and Derek’s pulse rose. Allison’s teeth grew into fangs and she growled again. “Or I could go find that pup he turned and get it out of him instead. To tell you the truth I’ve been wanting to get a closer look at those adorable brown eyes of his.”

Kate’s voice was soft and vicious, and Allison was shifting the rest of the way even as her feet were suddenly moving, carrying her toward the house and the implied threat to Stiles. She vaguely registered the scuffling noises and gunshots coming from within before Derek burst out of the front door and leapt off the porch, catching Allison’s arm and yanking her away. He didn’t let go immediately this time - he dragged her with him as he sprinted away through the woods. It was a long time before she shifted back and even longer before she said anything.  

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

Derek glanced back at her. “I was working out.”

“And you couldn’t hear them coming over the sound of your muscles getting larger?”

He glared and folded his arms over his chest, which struck Allison as endearingly self-conscious and pissed her off because she was angry with him and she wanted to stay that way. 

“Someone else was out jogging,” he muttered, “I was listening to their music.”

“Oh. That’s clever.”

“Not when there are hunters around,” said Derek. 

Allison was quiet for a little while. She listened to the forest, waiting to hear the thudding footfalls of a pursuit, but there was nothing around them but trees and animals. It started to rain, and she listened to that too before finally asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Derek didn’t bother pretending not to know what she was talking about. “You have to live with her.”

“And you don’t think I should know who I’m living with?” demanded Allison. 

“You live with hunters, Allison, what did you _think_ they do with us?” demanded Derek. 

“They have a code!”

Derek spun to face her and she had to stop short to keep from bumping into him. “That’s why you told them when you were bitten, is it? Because _they have a code_ and you trust them to follow it?”

Allison turned to glare at the gaps between the trees. When they finally started walking again, she pulled Kate's pendant off and shoved it in her pocket.

The rain got heavier as they went, so that by the time they reached Allison’s car, they were both soaked. Stiles’ house was closest, but when Derek saw it looming ahead of them he said, "What about his dad?" even though the Sheriff's car was clearly not in the driveway. 

"Teacher conferences," said Allison. When they reached the front door, Derek raised a fist to knock and Allison ducked under his arm to push it open and shove him inside. “Stiles!” 

There was a series of thumps and then the hammering of footsteps on the stairs before Stiles jumped the last few and slid into the living room. “Hey, what did you - _oh._ ”

“We need to borrow some clothes,” said Allison. 

“Sure,” said Stiles, his red cheeks getting slightly redder. “Shoes off, and come on.” He bounded back up the stairs and Allison and Derek left their shoes by the door and followed him. Stiles led them to his room, though they both knew where it was, and then stood in front of his desk while they both watched him uncertainly and shivered. 

“You’re welcome to anything in the closet or the dresser. I’ll get you guys towels.” Stiles ducked back out into the hallway and then cursed at the hall closet and ran down to the laundry room. 

Allison dug through his dresser to find something to change into so that she could let her clothes dry, and when she got back from the bathroom Derek was looking very out of place in a colorful striped shirt and fire engine pajama pants. He was sitting on Stiles’ bed with his back against the headboard and arms and legs folded over one another, as if taking up less space would make the outfit less offensive. 

Allison had to try very hard not to laugh at him until she saw his face and remembered Kate’s jeering and all the ash-ridden debris she and Stiles had been smuggling to the dump for weeks. Suddenly she had a lot of words and questions buzzing around in her head but the one that slipped out was, “How old are you?”

He glanced up, surprised, and said, “I’ll be twenty in a month.”

“Really? I mean that’s not - you can’t even drink?”

He shrugged. “I can. Laura got us fake IDs after she turned eighteen - you can get into a lot of trouble smuggling minors over state lines - but alcohol doesn’t really affect werewolves.”

“Oh.” 

Stiles returned just long enough to throw towels at them and grab their wet clothes and then ran off again, and Allison sat down on the corner of the bed to dry her hair. A couple minutes later Stiles was back, pressing mugs of hot tea into their hands before he tossed himself into his computer chair and stared at them. After a moment, during which the only noises to be heard were their breathing and the dryer running, he spread his hands and said, “This would normally be the point where someone explains what just happened.” 

“Kate paid Derek a visit,” said Allison. 

All the humor and excitement slid off Stiles’ face. “Oh.” He glanced at Derek but Derek didn’t meet his eyes. “Does she know about you?” he asked Allison. 

“No,” said Derek. 

“Okay,” said Stiles, “Well I didn’t get anything from Jackson. Did you have any luck with Lydia?”

“She saw the alpha come out of the store and turn into a person, but she didn’t get a good look at him and she didn’t see anybody else go into the store before the attack.”

“So Lydia knows about werewolves?” asked Stiles. 

Allison shrugged. “Not really. She doesn’t want to.”

Stiles looked confused for a moment and then shrugged it off. “Okay, what’s next?”

“Laura said she’d tracked down a guy named Harris who knew something about the fire. There were eleven in the phone book, and I’m narrowing it down so I can find out what he told her,” said Derek. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” asked Stiles, “My dad could-”

“ _No_ ,” said Derek, and Stiles and Allison both turned to look at him, surprised. 

“He’s on our side,” said Stiles. 

“I know that. But so far he hasn’t done anything other than enforcing the law, and we need to keep it that way. If the hunters think he’s knowingly helping werewolves they’ll get him fired. Or worse.” 

Allison set her jaw and glared at the floor, but before she or Stiles could form a response to that statement her phone started ringing. She pulled it out and her expression turned sour as she glanced at the screen before she answered it. “Hey d-” She scowled. “I went over to Stiles’ after school. _Yes,_ I’m aware that parent-teacher conferences were today, but seeing as they’re called _parent-teacher_ conferences and I'm not failing anything I didn’t think my presence was required.” She rolled her eyes and there was a pause before she said, “Hi mom.”

Whatever her mother said made both her and Derek’s eyes widen.

“Mom, nobody brings their friends home to ‘meet the parents,’” said Allison. There was another pause and then, “That’s because his dad has always made it clear that I’m welcome, whereas you freaked out after he fell in the woods and tried to forbid me from hanging out with him.” By the time Allison spoke again, she and Derek were both glaring daggers. “Fine, I’ll ask him.” Allison hung up, and silence fell. 

“So?” asked Stiles. 

“You’re invited to dinner tomorrow night,” said Allison. 

“Okay?” said Stiles. 

“It’s not okay,” said Derek. “It’s dangerous.”

“It’s not dangerous,” said Stiles, “they followed me on the full moon, they know I didn’t change, they’re not going to-”

“Kate still thought you were a beta,” said Allison. 

“He doesn’t have any reason not to go,” said Derek, and there was a growl to his voice that made it sound like it was being dragged over gravel. “If he declines he might as well tell them they’re right.”

“Okay,” said Stiles, “I’ll go and show them I’m not a werewolf and it’ll be fine.”

“How are you going to _show_ them you’re not a werewolf?” asked Allison. 

“I don’t know, by not being a werewolf?” asked Stiles. “We’ll figure it out. Maybe they’ll make me a wolfsbane salad or something.”

“Or shoot you,” said Derek. 

“Let’s not go there,” said Stiles. He smiled for Allison. “Tell them I’d be happy to. Big fan of food. Especially free food.”

* * *

The Argents’ house had never looked quite so imposing. Stiles had also never met a group of people whose smiles made him want to flee the way Chris, Victoria, and Kate’s did. He did his best to smile back and make jokes, and things went fairly smoothly from the jeep to the dinner table, where Kate managed to swing it so that Stiles was between her and Victoria and Allison was sitting across from him, looking apologetic, with Chris at the end of the table opposite his wife. 

Allison looked mortified that her parents had turned it into a restaurant-style meal, with salad and appetizers followed by dinner followed by dessert, but she managed to keep up a stream of fairly safe small talk until Chris took the salad plates to the kitchen. Kate bumped Stiles’ shoulder with hers and he nearly choked on his water. 

“So Allison tells us you two aren’t dating. What’s wrong, she not your type?”

Stiles actually managed a real laugh at that and said, “I think the wrong type thing is mutual, actually.”

“Aww, come on,” Kate smirked at Allison, “you telling me you couldn’t fall for these adorable brown eyes?” She actually reached over and ruffled Stiles’ hair - or would have, if he had any hair to ruffle. 

Allison looked uncomfortable enough that Victoria swung in to change the subject and put the spotlight firmly back on Stiles. “So, what do you do when you’re not at school or wandering through the woods? Any hobbies?”

Allison cringed. 

The questions were subtle enough that if there had been anyone at the table who didn’t know that Victoria, Chris, and Kate thought that Stiles was a werewolf, they would have thought that he was being judged poorly for his extra-curricular activities and prowess at lacrosse - which is to say that they had not come right out and asked him if he was a werewolf. 

But he and Allison both knew better, and after an hour of Kate reaching over to touch him at every opportunity it was pretty clear she was trying to cover him in her smell with the assumption that he’d go back to Derek as soon as the meal was over. Stiles was wishing more than ever that he had convinced Derek not to wait up with his dad for him to get home, but it had been no use - when they told the Sheriff about the dinner, Derek’s nervous energy and obvious fear for Stiles’ safety had gotten under his skin. The two of them were sitting by the phone in Stiles’ living room, waiting to come rushing to the rescue. 

Allison and Stiles both tried to get them to skip dessert but they weren’t having it - Kate actually pulled Stiles back into his chair when he started to get up and slung an arm around his shoulders, insisting that there was _so much more_ she needed to know about him. Chris was taking his time getting the cheesecake from the kitchen and Allison gave Stiles a look like she was about to leave him to die. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said. 

“Well don’t tell us about it, just go,” said Kate with a laugh. 

Stiles laughed as well. “Are you waiting for a hall pass?” he asked. 

Allison stood up and glared at Kate and her mother in turn. “ _Be nice_.”

It was silent for a long moment after she left the room, until Chris returned and placed the cheesecake at the center of the table and Kate said, “So if you’re not interested in Allison, was it a kinky thing or were you hoping it would make you better at lacrosse?”

Stiles looked up at her blankly. “What are you-”

Her hand shot out, latching onto his arm where it was still bandaged and Stiles yelped and tried to pull away but her fingers were digging in and pulling only made it hurt more. “The bite,” she clarified. 

“It’s not a bite,” said Stiles frantically, “and that’s - _ow_ , ow-ow-ow-”

Kate dropped his arm with a sneer and Stiles pulled it against his chest. Blood started dotting the bandage, and the Argents all froze. 

“You thought I was a werewolf?” Stiles demanded, because there didn’t seem to be much point in pretense. “Is _that_ why you’ve been so unbelievably creepy all night? Why didn’t you just _ask?”_

“I’ve seen you out at the Hale house,” said Kate. 

Stiles glared at her. “You can’t become a werewolf by walking into a house!”

“Why would you go out there if you weren’t one?” asked Victoria. 

Stiles shrugged. “Dude saved my life when I fell. We’re friends now. At least, I think we’re friends now. I’ve got enough evidence to make a solid case for friendship.”

“Allison-” began Chris, but Stiles shook his head. 

“Derek asked me not to say anything to anybody. I hang out with him when Allison’s busy with Lydia.”

“You ‘hang out’ with him?” repeated Victoria. “A twenty-four-year-old? And that doesn’t seem odd to you?”

“He’s not even twenty yet, actually, so no, it doesn’t,” said Stiles. He tried to ignore the scandalized look that Chris gave Kate. 

“You shouldn’t be hanging out with a werewolf,” said Victoria, “they’re dangerous.”

“I’ve been friends with Derek for nearly two months and I haven’t gotten hurt once since then. One dinner with you and I’m bleeding,” he heard a noise outside the dining room and got up abruptly. “excuse me, I’m going to go check on my stitches.” He caught Allison in the hallway, fangs out and eyes glowing and dragged her back to the guest room. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” she snarled. 

“But I’m fine. Considerably finer than you or I will be if you go out there looking like you do, so stop it.”

She started to snarl again, so Stiles hugged her. For a moment she went stiff with surprise, but he buried his face in her hair and he could feel her pulse pounding frantically in her neck so he knew that she could feel and hear the slow, steady thrum of his heart. Slowly, her arms came up to hug him back and her claws and fangs retreated as her body relaxed. 

“You reek,” she told him. 

“Yeah I’ve got some very intense showering planned,” said Stiles. He pulled away and offered Allison a smile, but mostly she just looked miserable. He reached over and ruffled her hair. “Let’s get those adorable brown eyes back out there.”

Allison gagged and swatted his hand away. “Don’t _ever_ do that again,” she said, but at least she was smiling at him. 

Dessert didn’t last long, but Chris and Victoria spent the entire time being especially nice to Stiles while Kate sulked at having her chew toy taken away. When he finally got back to the relative safety of his jeep, he called his house and his dad picked up immediately. 

“Stiles? You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It went well. They no longer think I’m a werewolf. They gave me an extra big slice of cheesecake for being assholes. Can I talk to Derek?”

His dad muttered something about being chopped liver but he passed the phone off and Derek’s particular brand of silence filled the other end of the line. 

“Go home,” Stiles told him. 

“What?”

“I know you’ve been worried and I appreciate you waiting up for me, but I’m fine. I need about a million showers, though, and then sleep, so you should go home and I’ll come by in the morning before school to prove how totally fine I am. Sound good?”

Derek was reluctant, but he agreed, and he was gone by the time Stiles got there. Stiles went straight from the front door to the bathroom and dragged out the supplies he needed to re-bandage his arm. His dad followed, scowling.

“That’s your definition of ‘fine?’” he asked. 

“I just pulled a couple stitches,” said Stiles, but when he got the gauze off it was pretty clear that the stitches hadn’t been _pulled_ so much as _pushed_. 

“This is why you sent Derek home?” asked the Sheriff. 

“They know they were wrong about me now,” said Stiles, “we’re back to neutral ground. We need to stay there. It’ll buy us some time to figure out who the alpha is.”

“And you’re keeping me in the loop on all of that, right?” asked the Sheriff.

“Yeah,” lied Stiles. “Hey, Derek said someone survived the fire. Do you know who?”

The Sheriff folded his arms and leaned against the doorway. “Peter Hale. He’s been catatonic since it happened. He’s out at the long-term inpatient care center at the hospital. Why?”

Stiles shrugged. “Just trying to see how it all fits together.”

“Because it’s all leading back to the fire?” asked the Sheriff. 

Stiles nodded. “But Derek’s the only werewolf with the right motive, but I _know_ it’s not him. But if Peter’s catatonic, then it’s not him either.”

“I’ll try and ask around,” said the Sheriff, “maybe he’s been improving.”

“Thanks, Dad,” said Stiles. 

His dad pulled him into a hug and Stiles was careful to keep his arm from hitting anything in the process. “You be careful.”

“You first.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Danny will be in the next bit I promise. Also Jackson. But probably not lacrosse.

**Author's Note:**

> For the purpose of this story, Derek is 19 and Kate is 23 and was in the same grade as Laura at the time of the fire.  
> Also, Scott moved away with his father and is living happily ever after somewhere far away where he gets to remain miserably human and severely asthmatic.


End file.
